


distance

by sepiaglass



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Unreliable Narrator, matoba does not actually make an appearance in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiaglass/pseuds/sepiaglass
Summary: Matoba is the one with one eye scarred and hidden, but Natori finds distance harder to judge.
Alternative summary: Natori speaks with Sumi-san, avoids his father, and meets a yokai on the train.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This is yet another attempt to write the thing I wanted to write about previously but never got to. As you may guess, this one didn't get to it either, but I did manage to cover an aspect of a different topic I wanted to explore: Natori's family!!! Specifically, the strength of the concept of family. Or something.

Shuuichi adjusts the strap of his messenger bag so that it sits more snugly on his shoulder. This time especially, he would have preferred to bring a duffel bag, but having to sacrifice space for appearance can’t be helped. Just the other day, he’d caught some middle-aged man slinking after him with a camera in hand...

Sumi-san, holding a scarf, tells him to bend down. He does, and she winds it around his neck, pulling at it until it’s picture-perfect. The warmth it gathers almost coaxes him into letting his guard down. “We’re cooking your favorite dish for dinner tonight. Your father has been looking forward to seeing you.”

_Really?_ Shuuichi almost scoffs as he straightens. “My favorite dish? I wasn’t aware that I had one.” His rebuttal is quick but good-natured, carefully crafted after years of practice. His tone is not entirely false either. Even so, he only barely manages an apologetic smile. “I have to meet with Murata-san for dinner in an hour and a half. Downtown is busy, so I’ll barely make it if I leave now.” He loosens the scarf’s hold absentmindedly. The heat it has trapped around his neck is becoming uncomfortable, despite the cold draft of air flowing through the house. “If Father wants to discuss something with me, he can call in and we’ll schedule something.”

Sumi-san frowns; disapproval glints in her eyes. Confused for a moment, he runs his words through his head a second time.

_Ah_ , he realizes. It is unacceptable that he would refuse to meet unless they had an appointment—he’d be practically denying their blood connection. No matter how much his father hates him, they are still father and son, and Shuuichi is expected to act accordingly.

While Shuuichi couldn’t care less about his father’s impression of him, the repercussions of his words could impact more than just himself, especially now that he rarely visits.

“Ahh, nevermind that,” he says with a quiet laugh. “I was joking with myself to relieve some stress. From work, and all.” She stiffens with uncertainty at his words, so he clarifies further, delivering another half-truth with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel. “My manager and I are at odds right now about some offers I’ve received—ah, but don’t tell Father that, please. He might add it to his arsenal.” He smiles thinly. Sumi-san is tactful enough not to protest in his father’s favor. “I’ll come back tomorrow evening, alright?”

Sumi-san nods. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll tell him that.” The light in the hallway is dim and etches tired shadows into her aging face. For a moment, he wants to ask her why she puts up with his family when she has always had the option to leave.

Neither of them speak.

Then he leans forward and puts his arms around her in a quick hug. “Have a good night, Sumi-san. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She returns the gesture with surprising strength. “Do make sure to order something healthy and filling at that dinner. You’ve been losing weight. And don’t argue too much with your manager; he knows best.”

Shuuichi wouldn’t deny the first part, but the second part—well, that disconnect has always been there, and through no fault but his own. Weariness seeps, ever gently, into his voice. “Thanks, Sumi-san. I really must go now.”

Securing the hat on his head with one hand, he steps into the light of the sinking sun. The words of his ancestors sway heavy at his hip.

* * *

 On the train, a lanky yokai is dozing in Shuuichi’s seat. Most of the other seats are empty, but he tosses his bag on it as if he can’t see it. It wakes with an indignant squawk and looks around frantically for the culprit.

Shuuichi settles down next to it, yawning half for show, and moves to retrieve his bag. He stops short as if startled. “Oh, sorry; I didn’t see you there,” he says with a miniature red-carpet smile. The yokai glowers at him, unimpressed by both his ability to see it and his ability to smile winningly. Shuuichi feels a little like he’s been issued a challenge. “I’d like my bag back, if you would. It’s very important to me.”

The yokai complies with his request and asks why the bag is so heavy, but shows no sign of recognizing his scent. That, too, feels like a challenge, but there are benefits to being unknown.

Thus, as the train begins to trundle toward the city, they talk.

Humans, of course, are the first topic, but it soon branches into why the yokai is on the train, the various places it has traveled, the gods it has had the honor of meeting, the troubles it has run into. For a brief moment, when the conversation turns to himself, they even touch upon his lizard companion.

The stations pass by quicker than Shuuichi expects: before long, his stop has arrived.

When he stands up and prepares to leave, the yokai leans forward. While it dislikes many humans, it tells him with complete seriousness, his presence has been enjoyable.

"Human," it asks. "What is your name?"

“Shuuichi,” he replies, and walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd note here that when Natori talks about blood connection... it's not the blood connection that he's denying that's important. It's the denial of "[perception of] the effort and sacrifice it takes to raise a child." Saying that it's blood connection is a more simplistic(?) way to put it, and I thought he'd prefer it because it lets him move on and consider other things. Originally I shoved a lot more exposition there, but it slowed the conversation down way too much LOL.
> 
> If this evoked any feelings in you guys, I'd love to know! I felt a little foggy when I was writing it, haha. If that makes sense.
> 
> Gonna shove this into a series with my other work once I figure out what I want to name the thing. Thanks for reading!!


End file.
